


The Unbearable Awkwardness Of Being

by TeratoMarty



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Sex, Sex Fail, cringing embarrassment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9831674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeratoMarty/pseuds/TeratoMarty
Summary: In which Sniper wonders "why, oh god WHY, I'm such a loser," while Medic tries to give him a blowie.  Part 1.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a mask, the RED Sniper mused as he looked at himself in the mirror. He pulled his cheek taut to shave it smooth, guiding the straight razor carefully. All his yabber about being a professional, and he was a fraud. It was satisfying to think of himself as polite, efficient, deadly. He moved on to the other side of his face. Much moreso than to admit that he had been a scrawny, weird kid who’d grown into a scrawny, weird man.

Fucking Australians, he thought as he shaved the area where his moustache wouldn’t. It was bad enough in primary school when some of the lads had swanked about getting their moustaches. By the time he was seventeen and even the girls had flowing handlebar moustaches, it had grown intolerable. He’d gone walkabout rather than finish school. He loved Australia, just hated fucking Australians.

As he raised his chin to shave his throat, he thought about someone else he hated- the bloody bastard BLU Spy. Smug sod. The Sniper wondered ruefully if it wasn’t just that the smarmy wanker had a better mask. Not the Mann Co. one- that just built on his own abilities- to take on any voice, any manner, to be anyone he wanted, effortlessly changing what he seemed to be. The first time Sniper had heard of savoir-faire, he’d thought it was some type of party nibbles. Story of his life.

Still, it was at least partly thanks to the greasy weasel that the Sniper was splashing on aftershave now, getting ready for dinner with the RED Medic. The Spy had stabbed him in the kidney at the end of a match- vengeance for a Jarate attack- and left him to bleed out after Respawn was down for the day. Not permanently fatal, but bloody inconvenient, as he’d only respawn when the system booted back up for battle the next morning, robbing him of an evening’s downtime, a night’s sleep, and breakfast. Right painful, too.

The Medic had come looking for him, though, and found him lying pathetically in a pool of his own blood. Found him and healed him, and stroked his hair as he groaned in shame and pain. When the medigun had finished its work, the Sniper had sat up, grabbed the doctor by his tie, and kissed him.

He still wasn’t sure why he’d done it, he reflected as he tried to remember how to tie a tie. It was the only necktie he owned. He’d wanted to, obviously, but that was hardly good enough. The German had a temper, and a quick hand on the bonesaw. Could’ve gutted him and dropped him right back into the slick of his own blood. He hadn’t, though. He’d responded enthusiastically, twisting his tongue into the Sniper’s mouth, letting himself be pawed at in the squalid hayloft.

It had been bloody amazing, the light of the setting sun pouring in the window, the beginning of the night wind ruffling his hair, the Medic so solid and willing in his arms. It had only started to go wrong when the German suggested that they move indoors. The walk to his quarters near the infirmary had been agony- his erection chafing inside his pants, the certainty that everyone in the base could see it, knew where he was headed, and why. 

When they got there, he didn’t know where to put his hands, what to do with his arms. He was just an awkward pile of limbs, squirming and grunting ridiculously against the handsome German. He’d lost his erection when the Medic suggested stripping out of their bloody clothing, and scarpered back to his van.

Incredibly, the Medic still pursued him, invited him back the next day. Remembering the heat of the other man’s prick against his thigh, even through both pairs of their pants, the Sniper had gone along. In the privacy of his quarters, the Medic had stripped them both, his touch electric on every newly-naked area of the assassin’s skin. He had invited the Sniper to touch him, anywhere, everywhere, to explore as much as his heart desired. He’d done so eagerly, stroking the doctor all over his body, loving it. It had been going along swimmingly, until he had crawled on top of the other man and had a sudden ludicrous image of himself, crouched like a spider, white ass gleaming against the rest of his tanned hide, clinging to the trim perfection of the man under him.

The Medic had kept him from running away, had tried to talk to him, but the Sniper simply couldn’t find the words for the humiliation that withered his erection and ruined their fun. He’d tried to say, it’s nothing, Doc, leave it, but that wasn’t in the Medic’s nature.

The next time they’d had a moment together, the Medic pounced upon the Sniper, tearing at his clothing, licking and biting his way down the man’s lanky body. Without further foreplay, the doctor slurped down on the marksman’s cock, sucking it hard and fast to full erection.

Wet, hot, tight, sliding- the sensation was overwhelming. The Sniper fell back heavily against the wall, thrusting into the Medic’s mouth, clutching his shoulder, grabbing his hair. The German moaned deep in his throat, sending maddening vibrations along the Sniper’s prick. He thought he might come right there, but the Medic wrapped a firm hand around his balls, preventing them from pulling up toward his pelvis in orgasm. The assassin whimpered in desperation.

He saw himself in that instant- face twisted into an idiot grimace, whining like a baby, hairy and dirty, and the pleasure drained out of him. Despite the filthy things that the Medic was doing with his tongue, the Sniper’s cock went limp.

He tried to disengage, to get away so that he could bugger off to his van and hate himself in peace. He was stopped, though, by the Medic’s hand, still holding his sack in a steely grip. 

“Sniper,” the German said, not unkindly, “I want to know what is going on, and I have ways of making you talk.” He tightened his grip to the point of pain, then eased off again. “Was ist los? Why do you run away the moment your erection wilts?”

The Sniper grunted. “Let go.”

“Not until you tell me why you always run away just as it’s getting interesting.”

“I feel ridiculous, all right?”

“Because you lose your erection?” The Medic frowned. “It is perfectly ordinary for arousal to increase and decrease during the sexual act. You don’t need to be ashamed, and avoiding the situation will only reinforce your psychological impotence.” A grin spread across the Medics face, and his touch became a caress. “If all else fails, we could try an injection of-”

“Doc, no!” The Sniper slapped the man’s hand away. “I’m not ashamed cos I lose my stiffy, I lose it because I’m ashamed.” He wrapped his long, irregularly tanned arms around himself, painfully aware of how little they hid.

“Of what are you ashamed?” The Medic stood to intercept the other man’s averted gaze. 

“I get distracted. Forget it.”

“Lieber Herr, I have known you to sit motionless for hours at a time with gunfire blazing around you. I cannot imagine what might distract you.” The Medic frowned thoughtfully.

“That’s different. I’m working.” The Sniper tried to get dressed.

“Different in what way?”

“Uncomplicated, like being a shark or a dingo. Dingoes never care that they’re rangy, hairy, ugly bastards. They just hunt.”

“I see.” The Medic put a hand on the Sniper’s shoulder. “Would it be too complicated to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

The German had looked so earnest that the Sniper had agreed, but as he wrestled with his necktie, he realised he should have said yes, it was too complicated. Getting dressed up to go eat perfectly ordinary grub in the medical bay, for fuck’s sake. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time, grimaced, and headed out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Medic has An Idea.

“Thank you for coming.” The Medic put an arm around the Sniper, half of a hug. The assassin had reluctantly agreed to have dinner in the medical bay after their every effort at having a casual fuck had failed. Sniper didn’t see why the doc was so Hell-bent on having it off with a weird, rangy failure of an Australian, but the food did smell good.

The Sniper sat carefully, tucking in his knees and elbows. “Doc, this looks amazing. Where did you get all this?” He surveyed the array of unusual foodstuffs, “and what is it?”

“It’s a mixed choucroute on sauerkraut. Smoked, pickled, and potted meats, on cabbage. I keep the jars behind my specimens so that Scout and Heavy won’t eat them.”

“You’re sure none of the specimens got mixed up?” The Sniper hoped like Hell the thing crowning the pile was a ham hock. 

“Don’t be silly. Won’t you have some wine?” The Medic decanted a crimson fluid from a heavy brown reagent bottle. 

After serving the probable wine, the Medic sat. “To you,” he offered a toast.

“Doc…” Sniper tried to voice his thoughts. “Why are you doing all this? You don’t have to- to romance me.” He was cringingly aware of how stupid he sounded.

“Yes, but I want to,” the German replied. “I want you.”

“Can’t say I understand why.” The Sniper bit into a mysterious slice of something savoury and delicious. 

“Why does anyone want anything?” The doctor shrugged. “I’m a Medic, not a psychologist. All I know is that, when I see you, I want to hold you, to kiss you, to run my tongue over every plane and crevice of your taut, hairy body.”

The Sniper blushed to the tips of his ears, a hot, prickling scarlet. “Christ, Doc.” He wished that he was wearing his hat so that he could hide his eyes.

“Am I wrong in thinking that you want this, as well?”

Gritting his teeth as if bracing for a blow, the Sniper replied, “no.”

“Good.” The Medic raised the wine bottle and topped up his glass. “I have a theory as to how this may be accomplished.”

“Can I have some water, Doc?” The Australian looked warily at the wine.

“Certainly. It isn’t my intention to get you drunk and take advantage. I had just hoped to take the edge off your anxiety.” He filled a graduated beaker and passed it to the Sniper.

“Hah, you’d need Demo’s entire cache of scrumpy.”

“I don’t believe that I will, though.” Medic sipped his wine. “Strange though it is for me to say this, I believe it can be achieved without resorting to mind-altering chemicals.”

“... I’m listening.”

“You said that working made you feel like a shark, a dingo. It made me think… put a collar on a dingo and you have a dog.” He put a broad leather collar on the table between them.

“Holy dooley.”

“That’s not the same as ‘no,’ though, is it?” The Medic reached out to stroke the Sniper’s hand. 

The Sniper was glad he’d asked for water; his throat was as dry as his palms were sweaty.

“You need not decide completely right now. However, I propose an experiment for the rest of the meal.”

“What,” Sniper managed to croak.

“I put the collar on you, and you finish your supper as my dog.” 

The Sniper’s face burned with shame, but he didn’t object as the Medic buckled the collar around his neck.

“There now, paws off the table, you naughty thing.” The Medic spoke with the same indulgence he used on his doves. “Down on the floor, there’s a good boy.” He put Sniper’s plate on the ground, and added a few more choice slices of meat.

Numbly, the Sniper got down on his knees. He hesitated, though, glancing at the infirmary door.

“Oh, not to worry, hundchen.” The Medic latched the door and drew a shade over the observation window. “No-one will try to take your food.”

The Sniper put his palms on the floor. This was easily the most humiliating thing he’d ever done- so much so that he couldn’t even be embarrassed. It was like pissing in the bush or weathering a freezing night inside the still-warm corpse of a water buffalo- just what had to be done in the circumstances. He lowered his face to the plate and gulped down a bit of meat.

“Good boy.” The Medic scratched his head. “Eat, eat.”

Such an odd experience. He crouched under the table as Medic continued his meal above. At one point, the man poured some water into a bowl and set it beside the plate. Sniper lapped it up- some of the meat was very salty.

Sniper finished the meal by licking his plate- something he’d always been inclined to do, anyway. 

“Look at me,” the Medic ordered. The Sniper met the Medic’s gaze. “Do you like this?”

The Sniper nodded.

“Do you want to end this little game now?”

He shook his head.

“In that case, I think I should get that clothing off of you. You’ll only get it dirty.”

The Medic stripped the Sniper, folding his clothing neatly on a chair, and proceeded to inspect him. He pulled the Sniper’s eyelids up, lifted his lips to examine his teeth, peered into his ears. Sniper enjoyed the man patting his back, then yelped in surprise as Medic reached between his legs and squeezed his balls.

“There, there, nothing to yip about, you’re in fine condition.” Medic rolled the Sniper’s balls around, tugging gently.

The Sniper’s cock was aching with need. He dropped his chest toward the floor, trying to press himself into Medic’s hand. Deep inside his mind, some tiny part of him marvelled at the silence in the rest of his brain. How did it-

“No thinking!” The Medic had rolled up a magazine and swatted him with it. “Dogs don’t think, they obey, if they are good dogs. Now… lick.” Standing in front of the Sniper, the German unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock.

The Sniper had never wanted anything so much. He froze, paralyzed with lust.

“Go on, it’s all right.” the Medic cooed. “Eat up.”

Getting up onto his knees, the Sniper did as he was told. The Medic’s skin smelled of clean, warm musk and faint traces of soap, tasted of salt and desire.

“Good boy,” the Medic petted his hair and scratched his head as he licked. “Very good.”

The Sniper licked more enthusiastically, pressing his face into the Medic’s pants to slurp at the base of his cock and lick his balls. The man’s breathing was becoming fast and ragged- he was close. Sniper grabbed his hips and sucked for all he was worth.

“Bad dog!” The Medic bopped him with the magazine. “Down!”

Falling back onto his haunches, the Sniper felt ready to whine with confusion. What the Hell- he went for it and whined.

“You are to do as I say- none of this pawing and mounting. You clearly need better training- sit.” 

It was always worrisome when the Medic rummaged around in the sickbay, but it was worse while sitting bollocky bare-ass naked on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, part III is coming, hopefully with less than a year between updates.


End file.
